Upload, A Sherlolly Reply
by Maejones
Summary: Molly is revealed as Sherlock's girlfriend to the public. Her blog goes nuts and then a bit wild . . . SMUT ALERT!


Molly rapidly blinked at her screen as she clutched the lapels of her robe together. The previous day, John had casually referred to her as Sherlock's girlfriend in his blog. Since then, her own page had been inundated with messages. She had almost forgot she still had the thing until she started receiving notifications from it. Fast and furious they had come - mostly furious.

"…Fame whore!… What, are you pregnant?… Gonna fake a baby to trap him?… Have fun while it lasts… What's so special about you?… You are so mousey… Sherlock Holmes needs a strong woman…You're too old for him… You're his beard, lmfao… He's just using you… He's fucking Irene A… You're a loser, a zero!… Are you blackmailing him?… Total publicity stunt…. Why the PR?…"

Molly heard movement behind her and jumped as a shadow cast across her desk. She quickly minimized the page she'd been viewing and swivelled in her chair. Her face flushed as she glanced up at a nearly naked Sherlock swaddled only in a towel around his hips. He rubbed moisture from his hair with a second towel as he gazed down at her with a quizzical twist to his brow.

"What is it?" His eyes narrowed.

She gulped down a lump in her throat as the hateful messages looped through her brain. She could almost hear the invectives hurled at her as if they were jeering kids. She felt her face heat. She was embarrassed and a little emotionally frantic. She didn't want to tell him. She felt that if she even began to explain, she would break down. Her tear ducts started to swell and burn.

Sherlock's head turned ever so slightly as he studied her expression. He flung the towel in his hand over a nearby chair as he moved closer.

"You do know you cannot hide things from me, right?"

Molly tried to speak but her lip quivered. She cast her eyes towards the floor and nodded. In an instant, he had crouched down. He gently cupped her face and urged her to look at him. His eyes were filled with concern.

"Tell me," he murmured as he rubbed a thumb on her jaw.

"I-It's nothing, really," she whispered, "j-just some kids wanking on my blog, I think."

"May I see?"

Molly nodded again and sighed as he stood and leaned over the desk. She clicked open the page on her laptop and peered up at him as he scanned the messages. She watched a muscle in his jaw harden. The muscles across his shoulder and back bunched as well as if he prepared for war. His face took on fierce battle mask. It was … it was more than a little bit sexy.

"None of this is true, Molly," he glowered at the screen before glancing down at her out of the corner of his eye, "unless, you want it to be."

Her breath caught. Her lips formed an 'o'.

"Wh-uh-aaa-t?"

Sherlock grabbed the arms of her chair, wheeled her towards him and leaned down. His towel slipped and she couldn't help sliding her focus down past his navel where the hard incline of his stomach angled in parallel to his hip. The scrap of lavender terrycloth held on by the friction of but a few loose folds. Her eyes jerked back up his frame to where he smirked knowingly.

"Wh-What do you mean, Sherlock?"

He licked his lips as he traced a finger down her chest towards the lapels of her bathrobe.

"Do you want to trap me?"

She thought she would die of overheating as her face flashed hot. Saliva built up in her mouth and she swallowed several times.

"Y-You mean … like, become pregnant? H-Have a baby? With y-you? Do youwant to be trapped?"

For a moment, her heart stopped as she awaited his reply. Then, a supremely satisfied expression, an almost smugness, relaxed his features.

"I want you to lock me up and throw away the key. I want a damned shotgun wedding with you hopelessly trying to conceal a swollen belly. I want everyone to disapprove of my recklessness. I want them all to doubt us because then it is truly us against the rest of the world and the truth, our truth, will be ours and ours alone," he growled, "and yes, I have run out of patience and incidentally, rubbers, but I have never been more certain of anything in my life."

Molly gaped at him. A different sort of heat infused every inch of her flesh.

"Dear God," she rasped, "you are cracked but I love you."

Sherlock leaned forward, his mouth partially open for an erotic, tongue stroking kiss. She heard the the sound of a faux camera shutter snap from her computer and then another as his lips and tongue did their magic. When he lifted his head, his breaths were scorching on her moist lips.

"So, Molly Hooper, because I am most definitely and desperately in love with you, will you be my wife and bear my children, and not necessarily in that order?" His deep voice rumbled.

"Hell, yes," she panted, "oh, hell, yes, Sherlock Holmes. Make me irreversibly yours."

She peeked at the laptop to see the perfect profile shot of their tongues meeting just as they started to kiss. There could be no mistake about what would follow.

He grinned. "Best way to answer the skeptics, mm? Do I have your permission to upload this?"

"Upload away," she breathed.

His brows twitched. "That is my intention."

 **And now, part 2 . . . . . .**

Molly chewed her lip as she reached for the towel at Sherlock's waist. The smile on his became downright devilish.

"I would live stream our encounter," he said in his lowest tone as he hovered over her, "but I do not know if I want to share you."

She felt her sex flush between her legs. Her toes wiggled against the floor beneath the chair upon which she quaked in anticipation. Again her insides washed with a delicious sensation as she imagined herself bent over the desk while Sherlock slammed into her body. He squinted and tugged at the tie at her waist. Her robe loosened. He drifted even nearer.

"Why do I think you are not at all averse to that idea?" He breathed against her lips. "Hmm, naughty girl?"

Molly's face warmed and she shrugged shyly as she slipped the towel from his hips and sought his stiff, smooth shaft. His low laugh rattled her lips, then he sucked in a breath and swore as her fingers gripped his cock.

"Huh," he huffed, "ye-es, I think you would like an audience very much."

"M-Maybe a little," she whispered, embarrassed, but too turned on to think rationally.

Her hand stroked down the length of his member and back up. In the space of her next inhalation, he pulled her to her feet, rolled the chair away with his foot, and pushed her robe off her shoulders. She kicked the garment aside and plastered herself against him even though it was like getting too close to an iron, he was that warm. His plush, fleshy lips devoured her own. His rigid member jutted hard against her tummy. His hands were so large that they had to trail after each other down her back in order to maximize their contact with her skin.

"Unh, my little exhibitionist," he groaned, "here's my compromise since I am loathe to share too much of you. I am going to turn on the camera but cover the lens. What do you say? Anyone who stumbles on your page will be able to hear us."

Her insides did a funny wiggle. She liked that idea. A lot. She was so bad!

"O-Okay."

He brushed her hair aside and kissed along her neck. "Mm hmm, they will be able to hear the moment I impregnate you."

She swore her ovaries started railing against her insides like excited prisoners upon feeling the vibration of those words on her throat. The rest of her organs liquefied into a horny, insatiable goo. She was excited like she had never been. Just the thought of him ejaculating inside her caused her hormones to rampage. Her center pulsated with wetness, her nipples tingled and her skin kept flashing with heat.

"Yeah … yes, you need to fuck me right now, Sherlock."

He made another guttural sound, retrieved one of his towels and threw it over the laptop's camera. Then, he clicked through a couple pages and wheeled the chair in front of her desk. In the next instant, his hands were on her hips. He turned her around and rubbed his cock between her cheeks. His lips moved through her hair to speak in her ear.

"Tell our listeners what you want me to do to you, Molly."

"Oh, shite," she started out shyly, then found her voice, "I-I want you to fuck me over my desk, Sherlock Holmes. Fuck me hard. Ruin me."

He chuckled. "With pleasure, Molly Hooper, with pleasure."

A second later, Molly had one knee on her chair and her hands splayed out on her desk so she could lean over her computer. Sherlock positioned himself at her rear. Her hairs bristled up her spine and back of her neck as he rubbed the rounded head of his manhood at her entrance. She felt as if she were dripping, she was so needy for his fulfillment. Then, his rubbing became a push and an invasion. Once he was part way in and she felt the satisfying stretch of him, his hands slid up over her bum and his fingers curled around her hips.

"Sing for me, Molly," he said gruffly and then thrust suddenly.

"Uuunh, aaah!"

His claim was was kind of explosively stunning. The back of the chair clacked into the desk and she had to press her fingers down to keep her from sliding forward as his hips slammed into her rear and pushed her cheeks apart. A low moan rolled from her lips. Being filled and possessed by his considerable size never failed to satisfy. Then, like a cycling piston, he began to move.

"Mm, oh, dear God, I can feel you, Sherlock. Oh … fff …"

They had been using condoms and that had always felt very smooth but this, this raw contact was something else. There was friction and and variations of his fleshy anatomy that viscerally reminded her how much more intimate was their contact. It wasn't just a glide, but a glorious battle of give and take. Molly knew her needy whimpers filled the room. The small speaker on her laptop was probably crackling with sound.

"How does it feel, Molly?" Sherlock leaned down, his coarse stomach hairs tickled the valley between her cheeks.

"Good, Sherlock."

He drove into her deliberately and grunted. She cried out.

"Unh, so good, so good, unh."

He slammed again and again. Her chair and the desk beneath her hands creaked noisily with every thrust. She felt thoroughly savaged as her body jerked over and over with the power of his claim. It was addicting and thrilling and she imagined people leaning close to their computers and listening to their symphony with mouths agape. She hissed a little breath as she felt the first twinges of an impending orgasm at that thought.

"Oh, yes, Sherlock, fuck me. Fuck me, I'm close."

He swore and his paced increased. The twinges that sparked like a stubborn lighter at her cleft grew more frequent. Any moment, her clit would ignite. She clenched around him, desperate to milk his flesh for her completion. A long, low rumbling groan poured from his lips.

"I want to hear it," he groaned, "I want to hear you cum for me."

That was it for Molly. Suddenly, she split apart like the bursting of a pipeline and a final twinge set it alight akin to a fire ball. The explosion sent a shock wave through her body that rippled and resounded as if it were reflecting off walls.

"Aaah, uuunnnh, yes, unh, yes. Let me have it," she panted, "make me yours."

She felt him jerk and shudder with a few, hammering strokes. Then, his fingers bit into her hips and he embedded himself in her womb. She heard his breaths quicken and then felt the strain of his member as it readied for release. A rough cry signaled his completion followed by the undulation of his flesh as it pushed out his seed. She squeezed her eyes shut. A second echo of an orgasm radiated inwards from between her legs. He had come inside her, there was no going back!

Sherlock pressed a hand to her belly and gathered her up against him. His hips bucked weakly as he emptied. Then, spent, his cock slipped out and she felt wetness slick her thighs. She turned her head and sought his lips. He kissed her between labored breaths.

"Enjoyed that, did you?" He murmured.

"Im-mensely," she replied, her chest heaving.

"What about our wanking listeners?" He laughed against her lips.

She smiled. "I hope they hated every second of it."


End file.
